


my bones may break but i'll never be untrue

by awildthing



Series: Exit Wounds [3]
Category: Being Human, Being Human (UK)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:19:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awildthing/pseuds/awildthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McNair never said what to do when the end of the world happened.</p>
<p>The Trinity tries to find its way after the end (beginning) of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my bones may break but i'll never be untrue

I

McNair said to never talk to strangers, especially tall men and dark men. McNair said never to talk to kids his age or older. McNair said to always say "thank you" when he got handed things and say "please" when he was asking for things. McNair said to keep his mouth shut and stay in the back of the van when he was gone, and even sometimes when he was there too.

But McNair never said what to do when the end of the world happened.

II

Since Alex was sound (he'd got it right, he knew she was) she came back to live with them and he was really pleased. She always said she didn't feel much like talking about what happened in Scotland so he never asked in case her eyes got wet again. And he tried not to show it but he felt happy when she wore his shorts round the house 'cause that meant she wasn't going anywhere and she was his friend.

He wasn't sure if Hal put the wolf on the mantel – he was good at the paper-folding thing – but if that was it, he wasn't going to say anything. Every day when he woke up and came downstairs he would look at it and feel sad for a little bit, because he felt more than half-empty without the wolf. Maybe it was in a good way but he had to get used to it first, because right now he felt naked and uncomfortable, because before he hadn't known what it felt like without. So now that there was a part of him missing, he wasn't sure if that was okay or if he wanted to get it back.

(What was he saying? Of course he wanted to get it back.)

III

It took him about a week before he got the nerve to ring Allison.

Okay, that was a lie. Alex got the nerve for him. She dialed Allison's number and ran away cackling when he yelled to give it back, and then she complained that she couldn't Rentaghost anymore and shoved the phone at him.

Maybe it was just him being scared but Allison sounded pretty nervous. Well. He was nervous too. He scratched the back of his head where his scars used to be and it made his heart do painful things. But then Allison was talking about visiting and it was her break from University so he decided that he felt better.

She came over and they talked for a really long time, even though she said she couldn't stay because she was supposed to be with her roommates back at University. It was dark and Hal and Alex had already gone to bed when he walked her to the door and she kissed him sweetly goodnight.

He went back up to his room and started working on his argument for a debate to convince Allison to move in with them.

IV

He kept his job as Assistant Manager of the Barry Grand, and Hal kept his too. Once or twice he caught Hal polishing his badge with pride in the tense lines of his shoulders and concentration in his funny threadbare eyebrows and he laughed before getting whacked with a tea towel.

V

He wasn't dumb like everyone thought; at least, he was once but he wasn't anymore. Not as much, anyway. He grew up and learned things, like how to detox a vampire and treat a ghost like a bloke and what to do with a girl. Before, he learned things that McNair said were life lessons, real important stuff, like the best place to stake a vampire and what kind of mushrooms not to pick in the forest and how to climb a tree. But anyway, he grew up and learned things and sometimes they didn't make sense because McNair told him one thing and real life told him something different.

Alex once said, all casual-like, that McNair didn't always have to be right, you know, he could have made mistakes.

And he shook his head and said no, no way, McNair's McNair and he don't make mistakes.

She smiled the way people did when they thought he was poor-looking and not as smart as them, except she made it look nice. Hal did too. That made him think that maybe he was wrong about that particular smile, that maybe he hadn't seen every smile there was, and that they'd made up a new one that meant something way different.

Something just for him.

VI

So it turned out that normal life was lots of things. It was nice, boring, fun, lazy, happiness, and normal.

(Normal was something he'd never had before, but there were days when he wondered:

He must have had a normal once; living in the woods in a truck with McNair used to be his normal.

Now everything else felt out of place somehow.)

He had a regular job and he also had friends. Like, not just Hal and Alex. He was getting new friends, and he didn't know it until one day he was laughing with some people in a bar and they called him their mate. And he thought, well, maybe that's what friends were. Undefined until they were defined. Cause until they got a definition it wasn't really important to have a label, just that they were together.

Or some crock, Alex would finish for him if he were talking to her about it.

Except right now he had a suspicion that Alex and Hal were in the same room together doing "nothing" like they'd told him half an hour ago, when they snuck off separately and tried to be all subtle-like. Which he was really glad about. He was happy they'd sorted everything, 'cause the tension was driving him up the wall.

And he had Allison (well, almost but he was really close to convincing her) and then, then, finally, they would be a family.

Not like the kind in the photographs, 'cause in the photographs it was usually a mum, a dad, and a smiling kid wearing pigtails with their front tooth missing. But he learned that that wasn't the only kind of family – just like there wasn't only one kind of friend.

And he knew that Hal and Alex were sound, because even if they couldn't see it in each other's eyes, he could, and he knew nothing would happen that was bad. He hoped they saw it in his eyes, too. 'Cause when they were together, Tom and Hal and Alex, everything was right, and when they weren't together, Tom, Hal, Alex, everything was wrong.

And he was pretty sure they were all tired of wrong.

VII

For a little bit, they would all three of them sleep together in his bed because it was the biggest and they were all scared. And that was unconventional but it was also perfect. McNair said nightmares were for the weak-minded, and he was emphatically not weak-minded, said McNair, so he never had them. But Alex did, and Hal did, and he was more than happy to give them two-thirds of his bed to make them feel better.

And really it made him feel better too, because then he knew that if he ever got nightmares they would be there to get him to snap out of it and come back to normal, 'cause normal was what he was.

He was adding new definitions to the word 'family' every day and it just got better.

VIII

Tom, shouted McNair, Tom, do you have the stake? Do you have the stake I gave you?

Yeah, yeah, I got it. It's in my –

Shh! McNair hissed at him and he felt his eyes wetting but he swiped at his eyes. You mustn't give away where you are hiding your weapons. Yes?

Okay dad, he said, and he shivered. McNair didn't let him wear his new-old coat in case it got ruined, and they didn't have enough money for dry cleaning or a Laundromat.

A door slammed and rowdy voices shouted at the night air. McNair exhaled heavily and shifted in his crouch.

Are you ready, Tom? Are you ready? His breath was coming fast now.

Yeah, dad, I'm ready.

And you remember everything I've taught you, Tom?

Yeah, dad, I remember.

Are you scared, Tom?

The ultimate test.

He paused and thought just to make sure –

(McNair said never to lie)

– No.

Good boy.

And the voices got louder as they were getting closer and his heart was beating really fast, like, twice as fast as normal and he was feeling his heartbeat in the scars on his back and on his head and in his soul –

The vampires drew closer and he caught the gleam of McNair's eye and McNair jerked his head and he got up. And he walked up to the vampire, confident-like, just how McNair taught him.

You're out late, little boy, said the vampire. His teeth were yellow and his hair was dark. His nails were jagged and brown.

Yeah, he said. He sounded like he wasn't scared.

Poor little boy, all alone, late at night with no one to hear you scream, sing-songed the man.

He knew McNair was right behind him and stopped the tremor triggered by the vampire. He was safe. He was safe. He was safe.

What's your name?

Tom McNair, he said, pressing his lips together. The vampire sniffed, deep, and recoiled.

I thought I smelled dog, he hissed, curling into himself and snarling. What are you playing at, little boy? Want to get a beating?

McNair grabbed the shoulders and bared the chest and yelled, NOW!

And he ran up and tried to plunge the stake through the heart, just like he'd seen McNair do all the time. Except he didn't do it right (why didn't he do it right?) and he couldn't push the stake through the vampire's coat and he struggled and flexed his ten-year-old muscles and gritted his teeth and pushed the stake as hard as he could.

He heard some cracking noises and the vampire spewed blood from his mouth and nose and made a pitiful noise and fell down.

A minute later all that was left was his coat.

McNair was breathing heavy and wiping vampire blood from his hands. McNair turned to him and braced his hands on his shoulders.

Okay, Tom, he said with a wolfish smile. There was still blood on his face, on his teeth and his eyelashes. Tell me. Tell me what you are.

iamtommcnairandijustkilledavampire.

iamtommcnairandijustkilledavampire.

IX

Usually in the morning before the full moon, he would wake up feeling sick and afraid, and he would take more time than usual in getting up. He'd spend longer in the shower (he still savoured the feeling of the hot water pounding into his back and he remembered the first time he had a shower which wasn't that long ago) and eat twice as much for breakfast. He would drag his feet at work and Patsy would glare at him harder than usual, and then he would just feel worse and drag his feet more. And he would tell Hal that he'd be in the cellar, and Hal would try not to look sad or afraid, whatever that weird expression was on his face, and he would turn back to his dominoes. Alex would bite her lip and not say anything, and that made him think that she liked him a little less every time he brought it up – brought the wolf up.

(He'd always find a chocolate bar on top of his pile of clothes when he was let out the next morning though, and since Hal discouraged the eating of chocolate,

maybe he was wrong about Alex. Maybe she was stronger than he thought.)

But now, though, now there wasn't a change coming every full moon, it was a strange thing.

And he would find himself less eager to get out of bed than usual – just like before – except now he didn't eat as much and if Hal tried to slip him more fruit he would snap at him and withdraw into himself. And he tried, really he did, but he was pretty sure people at work would notice his bad mood and stay out of his way on purpose so he would find himself alone most of the day.

The first time the full moon came round and the wolf stayed gone, he cried.

The second time he put his fist through the window of the main bath and nobody mentioned it, they just got it fixed.

He really appreciated everything they did for him; sometimes he felt like he wasn't doing enough for them and tried harder and they probably noticed, but didn't say anything. But he didn't say when they did things for him, 'cause usually he was pretty gutted about something when they did stuff for him. He knew, though, that they all had secret smiles and corner-of-the-eye glances that told lots of stuff that couldn't be said with just words.

X

There was that one day when Hal almost died, because apparently Hal had a lot of problems.

Maybe died was an exaggeration, he really only had a fit; Hal crumbled and shouted and he had to close his hands over his ears because Hal's screams rent his heart in two with the anguish.

It was supposed to be a normal day, just any random Wednesday, and it just so happened that that morning before work Alex spilled some blood cutting an apple and it triggered Hal's… well, he didn't really know what it triggered, just that it was something.

Hal went white, almost translucent-like, and the cup in his hand flew to the floor and smashed into tiny patterned porcelain shards, and his fingers shook and his arms shook and his whole torso – no, his whole body – shook with tremors that forced him to the ground. He heard the grating sound of Hal's teeth as they clenched, hard, and nails raked through hair and fists pounded the kitchen tile.

Alex was standing, shocked, drops of blood exploding against the floor, falling, falling, falling and then, whoosh, splattering up from the little red puddle by her feet.

He thought for a second that Hal might try to suck the blood with his tongue but he just stayed curled over himself, tense, on the floor in front of them.

And when he screamed Alex jumped and a few more mugs toppled to the floor (it was no big deal, he hadn't liked them much anyway) and he had to shove Alex out the door because she'd started crying –

He didn't want her to see Hal like this, not like this, not when she'd seen him at his worst because his worst was supposed to be over and this shouldn't be happening. Not now not ever.

Not now not ever.

Hal wasn't a vampire anymore. There. Final.

(He had to wonder: if you weren't a vampire anymore, could you still get the same urges?)

A few years ago, when he was dumber, he would have said Hal had some split-personality thing going on. But this wasn't a few years ago, and he was still pretty dumb but not that dumb, and so he was smart enough to know that there never were two Hals, just one, and sometimes now he got upset and had to be calmed down.

And he was just a man, but he was a good man, and that must count for something.

XI

Some sunlit days, he mourned the wolf absent from him.

It confused him to no end because all his life he'd wanted a taste, just a quick taste, of what life would be like without the constant shadow, without the putrid scent of the wolf following his steps.

Allison would hold him tight, and her springy hair would brush against his cheek and he'd thank God (whoever he was, if he even was) that he had her because his bones and chest would ache without her silly dinosaur jumper.

Allison would hold him tight, and her springy hair would brush against his cheek and he'd think, fleetingly, of the paper wolf gathering dust in the front room.

And maybe a few tears would escape the corner of his eye at the thought because, God, he wished.

He wished so hard that it could all be real/he wished so hard that it was all a

L I E.

And Eve would always be a baby,

And there would always be dead animals on the side of the highway,

And Antiques Roadshow would always be on the tele at a certain time slot,

And Hal would always fold his clothes neatly,

And he would always be in love with Allison,

And Alex would always stay because there was no place else.

There was no place else for any of them, them with their tattered souls.

XII

Alex was really bored of doing nothing and one day, she found an ad in the paper for a local yoga class.

"Hey, Allison," she called, "Wanna try some yoga?"

She was joking but Allison smiled and agreed, so Alex found herself being dragged to a yoga class later that week.

He came home from work that day and thumped up the stairs, hoping to find Hal doing press-ups because he was good to talk to when he was working out for some reason.

He passed by Alex's 'room' (she really didn't sleep there anymore, but she wasn't comfortable admitting it yet so he pretended to not notice anything) just in time to see her collapse to the ground. Alarmed, he was about to rush in until she shot up again, grumbling and straightening her shirt.

"Fucking tree pose," she muttered, and clasped her hands together and raised them above her head and stared at the ceiling and pressing her foot to her knee.

He stifled a laugh because she looked ridiculous.

She fell to the floor again a few seconds later and he tiptoed past her murmured swearing up to Hal's room.

XIII

McNair said that when the right girl came along, he would know it, and she would know it too. And until then, he couldn't be a bee to any other girl's flower. And he knew, now, that he was twenty-two years old and he had found the 'right girl' in Allison; he'd be a fool not to know. So he thought that it was probably time to make like a bee, 'cause she'd been living with them for six months (to the day actually, he took pride in counting every glorious day he woke up to her off-key humming) and they'd kissed a handful of times and neither of them had turned into werewolves (pang, went his heart) so he figured the time was right and she'd understand it too.

For their first time he imagined scented candles and long dresses and suits and flower petals and the colour red, like in the films and the magazine ads. For their first time he imagined a romantic dinner before (he would cook, of course) and he'd take her hand and lead her to their transformed bedroom and she would gasp and they would – you know.

They just would.

He'd read a bunch of library books about it and blushed and bit his nails trying to understand the diagrams and explanations. He thought he understood it now, even though it seemed a little difficult. He envied Hal and Alex 'cause they'd grown up normal and learned it and they seemed to have no logistical problems.

And God, if they never managed to – do it – anyway, or if they did and he wasn't good, or any of the horrible possibilities he'd been imagining, he knew it didn't really matter that much because Allison was his One.

The One that McNair always talked about, The One he once wasn't old enough to have yet, or The One who wasn't Nina because she was George's One.

But he was stupid, and well aware of that, and she was brilliant, and he was well aware of that too.

(She still stayed with him though and it always made him breathless.)

XIV

There will be a time when, years from now, he'll be playing football with his son in the front yard and Allison will be reading an intellectual book on the steps. Hal and Alex will be upstairs doing "nothing" like they'll have told him half an hour ago, when they'll have snuck off separately and tried to be all subtle-like, since a decision will have been made about kids – that is the dumbed-down version given to him.

And at this time, when his son will kick the football and he will catch it and they will all three of them rejoice –

(Allison will only pretend to be reading, because she has always worried about their son getting hurt)

– and he definitely, really will not think of the paper wolf, long ago ripped to shreds and tossed in the bin and probably recycled into new paper somewhere for someone else to twist and fold into something more benign than the promise of oblivion.

And at this time, when he will ruffle the brown hair on his son's head and curl his arm around Allison's shoulder, at this time, finally, he will be

home.

**Author's Note:**

> a heartfelt thank-you to all those of you who have followed this story! it took a big piece of my heart. 
> 
> note: personally, I do not subscribe to the concept that they have all become human; for the purpose of this fic, however, I thought it best to explore that idea. perhaps later on I'll deconstruct the other theories.


End file.
